I think this one was from first grade, so it’s funny to me that I was self-aware enough that I knew I would eventually die on an island if my plans just failed. Shows exactly how much confidence I had as a six-year-old, huh? “Guess I’d just die” was my attitude. I was pretty carefree, in that regard. I just wanted to “advencere” myself to death!

I’d like to point out that my grand survival plan hinged on being somewhere that I could find fish and coconuts. That was what I was going to live off of. No talk of water, no talk of hunting, I’m gonna motherfucking fish for the rest of my life. And presumably drink coconut milk, which could be sustenance enough.

Fish can provide about 400 calories, if we’re talking something like an Atlantic salmon. Which works for me, because the water around some of those Caribbean islands would be nice and warm to go spearing the bastards in.

Just doing some quick googling, and holy shit there’s about 1.4K calories in a medium-sized coconut. Those sons a bitches will also work to actively hydrate similar to water or a sports drink. Well I’ll be damned, looks like that would have worked.

My failsafe plan for survival in the first grade would have only required 2 fish a day and a single coconut if we’re talking a pure 2,000 calorie diet. I really thought it sounded stupid when I came across this ancient piece of paper, but fuck me that sounds like a good plan.

If I didn’t have this plan in the first grade, and I were stranded on an island, I guess I’d just die.

As with some of my other work from elementary, this one includes a very subtle twist. Notice it doesn’t just say “washed up on an island”, it says “deserted”. Like, was this an intentional thing? Was I marooned by my pirate crew? There’s a story here that’s not being fucking told, and seeing as we’ve settled how I’m going to survive on this island, I think the more interesting plot development is that I may have been left here by someone.

See, this is the kind of shit that pisses me off when it comes to plotlines. Just gonna throw in a hint and hope the audience glosses over it, six-year-old me? 13 years later that’s not true! I want answers, you sly bastard.